


Fallen Angel

by Sorin



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Also lots of feels, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-15 01:14:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5766328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sorin/pseuds/Sorin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Zephirin takes ill, Aymeric decides to brave his temper and offer him what support he can- and he learns far more about the other knight than he'd ever thought he would. (This will contain spoilers for the MSQ through the end of 3.0, so please have played that before reading!)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fallen Angel

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a long time since I've written anything in general, and longer since I wrote something that I felt was worth standing on its own. This is in no way a popular pairing, but I've really come to enjoy it lately, and I hope you do too- and the story as well!
> 
> Please note that this contains explicit sexual content between two men, and is definitely NSFW.

The sun has barely risen when Aymeric finds himself at his desk, stifling a yawn and making sure nobody’s watching before sneaking a couple drops of birch syrup into his tea.  The door to his office is open as he’s expecting Ser Zephirin at any moment for their monthly meeting, though he can’t help but think waspishly that it would be lovely if the man would simply find something else to do.  He and Zephirin have never gotten along, and he doesn’t see that changing any time soon- Zephirin loathes him on principle, and Aymeric feels much the same.  He takes a sip of his tea and makes sure his reports are in order, and when he hears the door close he looks up- and then blinks in surprise.

“Ser Vellguine,” he says, leaning back in his chair.  Vellguine is second in command to Zephirin, and secretly, Aymeric thinks he should have taken the spot of Lord Commander when it was offered to him.  He had instead passed it to Zephirin, which still mystifies him.

“Ser Aymeric,” Vellguine says solemnly, bowing slightly.  “Ser Zephirin is ill and has asked me to take over his duties for the nonce.”

Aymeric blinks, then frowns a little, immediately regretting his uncharitable thoughts from earlier.  He hadn’t wanted Zephirin to  _ suffer _ .  “I’m sorry to hear that,” he says genuinely.  “Let us hope his illness passes soon.”

Vellguine nods to him and sits in the chair across from Aymeric.  “Halone will protect him,” he replies.

The meeting goes smoothly and easily, for which Aymeric is very thankful.  It never fails that he and Zephirin bicker at each other while trying to conduct business, but Vellguine is calm and respectful- and Aymeric has always respected him in turn.  Once the older knight has left, Aymeric finds himself contemplating Zephirin’s situation.  He must be ill indeed to take a day of rest.

After finding himself thinking of the stricken knight several times throughout the course of his day, Aymeric finally decides to take him a bowl of soup and some bread, along with some tea.  He’s fully prepared for Zephirin to be even pricklier than usual, so when he knocks on the door and he hears him snap to go away- followed by a fit of coughing- he just sighs and turns the knob.  He’s a bit surprised to find the door unlocked, and he peers in before walking in and closing it behind him.

Zephirin glares at him from a nest of blankets on his bed.  He’s flushed and bright-eyed, but shaking with cold.  “What are  _ you _ doing here?” he demands, still managing to sound somewhat threatening even in his weakened state.

“Bringing you something to eat, as I imagine you haven’t had anything all day,” Aymeric replies, walking to the bed and setting the tray on the table next to it.  “Ser Vellguine came to our meeting this morning and informed me of your illness.”

“I sent him,” Zephirin replies, eying Aymeric warily.  “There were no issues, then?”

“None.”  Aymeric gives him a slight smile.  “All is in order.”

Zephirin nods curtly.  “Good,” he says,  “then leave me in peace.”  He glances at the tray, then averts his eyes- and Aymeric knows that quick acknowledgment is going to be the closest thing to thanks the knight will ever give him.

The following night, Aymeric returns once more with the same meal.  Zephirin hasn’t moved much, still tucked into the blankets and glaring balefully at him, and he once again sets the tray on the bedside table.  “You don’t look much better,” he says with a slight frown.  “Have your brothers not summoned a healer?”

“I don’t need one,” Zephirin replies sharply, though his voice is now little more than a rasp.  “I’m just fine.”

Aymeric’s frown deepens.  “Just fine, hm?” he asks.  Fever-bright green eyes glare at him from beneath a shock of sweat-damp blond hair.  “I would help you, if you would allow it.”

Zephirin scowls.  “And give you something to lord over me until the end of my days?  I think not.  I’ll not be beholden to you.”

“Put your pride away, Zephirin!”  Aymeric shakes his head in exasperation.  “Must everything between us be a contest?”

“It always has been,” Zephirin replies flatly, then is interrupted by a coughing fit that shakes his lean frame.  “I see no reason to change things,” he finally manages, though he does reach for the mug of tea on the tray.  He wraps his hands around it and takes a sip, then closes his eyes briefly.  For a heartbeat, he looks relieved- but then his eyes open and his glare returns.  “’tis enough I’m suffering your presence now.”

Aymeric stifles a sigh and spreads his hands in a helpless gesture.  “Get some rest,” he says, and gives the other knight a nod before leaving the room.  He’s thoughtful as he walks back to his own quarters- oddly enough, that seemed to have gone better than it had the night previous.  He knows Zephirin is sharp-tongued and short-tempered at best, at least with him, but he can’t quite put a finger on what had caused the other man to start disliking him.  He knows it had culminated with his own promotion to Lord Commander of the Temple Knights, and honestly even he doesn’t know why Zephirin was passed over and himself chosen instead, but Zephirin has never forgiven him for it- though his current position is far more prestigious.

He looks up at the stars before going back into the Congregation of Our Knights Most Heavenly, and he decides that he’s going to continue helping Zephirin, whether the man wants it or not- he would just as soon his pride didn’t literally kill him.

The next two nights are much the same as the one previous, with each one getting ever so slightly better- and he’s started bringing a vial of medicine as well.  He’s no idea if the food or the medicine are being consumed, but Zephirin has reached for the tea immediately, so he’s satisfied that he’s at least drinking a bit.  On the fifth night, however, he finds Zephirin on the floor next to his bed and he nearly drops the tray in his haste to get to him.

“What happened?” he asks, kneeling in front of him and reaching out to gently brace his shoulders.

Zephirin looks up at him, green eyes still fever-bright.  “I feel disgusting,” he finally says grudgingly.  “I wanted a bath, but wound up here, and I can’t seem…” He trails off and glares.  “’tis not your concern.  I’ll be fine on my own.”

“Of course you will,” Aymeric replies, mouth pressed into a thin line.  “As I’m here, however, perhaps you’d be so gracious as to permit me to  _ help you… _ unless, of course, you’d rather spend the night on the floor.”

Zephirin maintains his glare for a few breaths, then has to look away when another fit of coughing shakes him.  “Fine,” he rasps once he’s able to catch his breath, “just this once- but know that if you give me  _ any _ cause to regret it, I will make your life hell!”

Aymeric smiles faintly.  “Of course,” he replies, knowing full well that Zephirin can’t do much more than he already is along those lines- not without sabotaging the city’s defenses.  “Here.  Lean on me as I help you rise.”

Zephirin obeys, and though he makes to pull away once he’s upright, a wave of dizziness forces him to lean against Aymeric and close his eyes tight.  “By the Fury, what manner of sickness is this?” he breathes.

“A form of winter fever, if I’ve my guess,” Aymeric replies, carefully leading him to the small bathing chamber attached to his quarters.  He helps the knight sit on the stone edge of the tub and turns to fill it with lukewarm water, hoping to bring his temperature down a bit- he’d felt like a heated brick at his side.

“I am never sick,” Zephirin mutters, leaning forward and gripping the edge of the tub hard.  “This beggars belief.”

Aymeric glances at him.  He’s quite sure Zephirin has no use at all for pity, so he stifles his instinct to say something intended to make him feel better and looks back toward the water.  The two sit in silence until the tub is filled, then Aymeric turns the faucet off and rises, looking down at Zephirin with a nod.  “’tis ready,” he says.  “I will turn my back.”

Zephirin gives him a feeble glare.  “I’m no blushing maiden to be concerned about being seen naked by you,” he snaps weakly.

Aymeric rightly interprets that as a request for help and simply nods, reaching out and helping him stand, then bracing him with gloved hands at his waist while he strips out of his tunic and casts it aside.  Aymeric had taken most of his armor off before bringing Zephirin something to eat, but had opted to keep his usual gloves on beneath the long-sleeved shirt he’d put on after changing.

Once the trousers the blond had been wearing are cast aside as well, Aymeric helps Zephirin into the water and then steps back, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.  Zephirin sighs softly, which makes him cough again, and makes an annoyed sound before reaching for the shampoo.  Aymeric watches him calmly, making certain he doesn’t drown himself on accident, but after a few minutes finds himself idly admiring him.   _ No, _ he tells himself fiercely,  _ do not even consider it, do not even consider considering it in the first place!  That will lead nowhere good for either of you. _

Irritated with himself, Aymeric looks away.  He keeps his eyes firmly on the doorframe until Zephirin exhales- without coughing, this time- and catches his attention, causing him to glance back.  The knight is leaning against the back of the tub, arms draped over the sides and head tipped back, baring the pale column of his throat.  Aymeric watches as a droplet of water trails down to his collarbone and then swiftly pushes away from the wall, busying himself with whatever he can think of to avoid thinking of Zephirin like  _ that.  _

Zephirin watches him as he shifts, then smirks a little.  “You look uneasy.  That’s not a look I’ve seen on your face before.”

Aymeric shrugs, daring to glance at him again.  “I am not uneasy,” he replies… and it’s true, he’s not- he’s downright nervous.  “I’m merely considering all the tasks I have yet to accomplish.”

“Hmph.  I’m sure that woman you call your second in command can help you,” Zephirin replies, closing his eyes again.

Aymeric shoots him a glare.  “Her name is Lucia,” he says firmly, “and she is due every bit of respect that Ser Vellguine is as  _ your _ second in command.”

“Don’t get unduly ruffled.”  Zephirin shrugs and shifts a little, making a soft splashing sound as he does.  “She is beneath me, as is Vellguine, as are you.  I’ve no call to speak with her, so why should I remember her name?”

Aymeric’s hands instinctively clench into fists, and he has to force himself to relax them, crossing his arms across his chest and looking away.  “She has served Ishgard as well and as dutifully as any of us,” he replies.  “That alone should merit you at  _ least _ remembering her name.”

Zephirin opens his eyes, giving him a bored look.  “Very well,” he says, and drops the subject- to Aymeric’s unending surprise.  “… perhaps I’ll eat some of what you brought.”

“That would be a wise idea.”  Aymeric moves closer to make certain Zephirin doesn’t fall while getting out of the tub and gives him a towel, then turns away to give him privacy.

The blond-haired knight snorts faintly.  “They say you’re as chaste as a highborn virgin,” he says, apparently unable to resist the urge to taunt Aymeric for  _ something. _  “You keep turning away as though you’ve never seen a man naked before.”

“It’s called ‘respect’,” Aymeric says dryly, “and though you may lack it, I do not.”  Inside, he bristles a bit at the comment.  Why his love life- or lack thereof- is fodder for anyone’s gossip, he can’t imagine.  Furthermore, he  _ does not _ want to start down the road of admiring someone as poisonous as Zephirin, and a week’s worth of worry and at least a bit of time every evening tending him is doing odd things to his mind.

“Surely you’ve better things to do with your time than to hover over me,” Zephirin presses, obviously feeling well enough to attempt to goad a reaction out of him.

Aymeric stifles a sigh.  “Perhaps if at least  _ one _ of the members of the Heavens’ Ward would be here to help you, you wouldn’t need me around.”

Zephirin goes oddly quiet at that for a moment, then he huffs slightly.  Aymeric hears the sound of fabric whispering against bare skin as he dresses and keeps his gaze firmly on the doorframe.  “I’ve told them to leave me be in the evenings,” he finally says, his voice holding an odd note.  “I can’t stand their hovering any more than I can stand yours, but unlike them,  _ you _ aren’t beholden to follow my orders- and telling you to leave me be didn’t work.”

“Had I left you alone, I’ve my doubts you would’ve eaten at all this week,” Aymeric points out.  “Unless you allowed one of them to bring you breakfast or lunch.”

“A few times.”  Zephirin is silent for a moment, then he takes a somewhat wobbly step forward and puts a hand on Aymeric’s arm to steady himself.  “As you’ve mentioned it, I’m going to eat now.”

Aymeric helps him back into his bedroom and settles him in the chair by his table, then begins to strip the linens off of his bed.  He’s aware of Zephirin staring at him and he finally glances back.  “What?” he asks calmly.  “I’m quite certain you know how to change the linens on your own bed- and as it is, I don’t think you can do so without seriously injuring yourself.”

Zephirin frowns at him- which is, Aymeric notes, a markedly different expression than the glare he normally gets.  Now, he just looks somewhat puzzled, which is rather charming.  “Why are you going out of your way to help me?” he finally asks.

Aymeric shrugs and turns back to his work.  “We are both knights, are we not?” he replies.   “We rose through the ranks in the same way.  That you and I are now commanders in our own right does not mean we suddenly do not require the aid of others.”

Zephirin is silent, just watching him as he piles the dirty sheets in a corner and fetches fresh from the trunk at the foot of the bed.  “You’ll want something from me in return, no doubt,” he finally says, though he simply sounds weary as opposed to annoyed.

“Actually, no,” Aymeric replies, studiously keeping his eyes on the bedding, “I’ll want nothing in return.  I am here on my own time because I want to be, not because I’ve anything to gain from it.”

“Nobody is that selfless,” Zephirin says firmly.  “It’s foolish to act this way.”

“Then consider me foolish,” Aymeric says, glancing over his shoulder at the blond before finishing making the bed.  He turns to face him and smiles faintly, shrugging.  “You already do, I know, so what’s the harm in me doing something even more foolish than usual?”

“Hmph.”  Zephirin doesn’t seem to have a good answer for that, and he turns to his food, which Aymeric takes as a clear dismissal.  He’s got one hand on the door when Zephirin speaks quietly.  “I… appreciate your assistance.”

Aymeric glances back and smiles faintly.  “Think nothing of it,” he says, and he leaves without further ceremony.

Zephirin’s fever breaks sometime before Aymeric returns the following night, and though he’s glad to see the knight feeling better, a spark of disappointment finds a home in his chest and refuses to leave.  His recovery means that they’ll likely not see one another much, and though he knows it’s absolutely foolish of him, he’s started to get the faintest hint of butterflies in his stomach when he thinks of the other knight.  The best way to deal with that is to quash it, he thinks, and so as he leaves that night he looks back with a nod.

“Be well,” he says simply.  Zephirin looks at him with a neutral expression and nods slightly, and then Aymeric leaves into the cold night and wonders why his throat is suddenly hurting.  He immediately passes it off as the possibility of catching whatever Zephirin had, and he groans inwardly at the thought of having to miss that much work- it is a fitting distraction from the fact that the tightness in his throat is, in fact, something akin to regret.

The following night, Aymeric is up late going over reports that have come in from the field, and he almost doesn’t notice when someone knocks at the door.  He glances up, curious, and his eyes widen a bit when he sees who it is that’s walking in and closing it behind him.  Zephirin strides across the room, dressed in his full armor, and seats himself calmly in the chair he usually occupies during their monthly meetings.

“Vellguine gave me his report on your meeting,” he says coolly, “but I’ve some questions he didn’t know to ask.”

Aymeric tilts his head, then sets his quill down and nods.  “Very well,” he says, feeling somewhat mystified.  It’s quite late for such a visit, and the butterflies suddenly spring to life as he tells himself firmly that there is certainly no other reason for Zephirin to be there at all.

Their conversation goes deeper into the night than Aymeric had expected, and he finds himself stifling a yawn as he realizes that this is undoubtedly the first time they’ve actually spoken of business without fighting over something.  That in and of itself makes him want to stay awake and continue, but when he sees Zephirin muffling a yawn of his own, he decides it’s time to call it a night.

“It’s late,” he says.  “We can continue this discussion at another time, as I fear we’re both in need of sleep.”

Zephirin looks surprised, then nods once and stands gracefully.  “Very well.  I will return tomorrow.”  He leaves without another word, and Aymeric stares after him feeling somewhat bewildered.

As promised, Zephirin returns the following night, and though he doesn’t stay long- they’d hashed out most of the details the night before- he seems content enough during the time he’s there.  Aymeric is beginning to seriously question his own sanity, wondering if perhaps he’s taken a hit to the head in training that he hadn’t noticed, because the two are actually getting along better than they ever have.  They still don’t cross paths during the day, but when the evening rolls around, one of them seems to come up with an excuse to come talk to the other.

Finally, around two weeks later, Aymeric has retired to his chambers for the night when a knock comes on the door.  He has a feeling he knows who it is, and when he opens the door, he simply steps aside so Zephirin can come in.  The other knight is dressed simply in a hooded cloak, a loose-fitting button up shirt, and leather pants that immediately draw Aymeric’s eyes to his backside as he walks by.  He quickly looks away and busies himself with closing and bolting the door, and when he turns back he finds those green eyes trained on him with an intensity he hasn’t seen before.

“I can’t get you out of my head,” Zephirin says, his voice matter of fact.  “I know not what you’ve done to me, but- …” He frowns and crosses his arms.

Aymeric stares at him in shock, though a tiny voice in the back of his mind says  _ only Zephirin could say that without batting an eyelash nor looking the least bit uncomfortable _ . __ “What?” he finally manages to say, and kicks himself for his lack of eloquence.

Zephirin shrugs.  “I can’t explain it.  I’ve seen you every night for nearly a moon now, and yet staying away does not seem to be a plausible option.”

He’s not entirely sure if it’s the somewhat blasé way Zephirin is speaking or the words he’s saying, but Aymeric is thoroughly tongue-tied.  The other knight is watching him calmly, though as Aymeric studies him, he sees a wild sort of energy behind that intense gaze of his.  The butterflies flap even harder, making his hands shake, and so he clasps them together to hide it.

Zephirin studies him for a moment longer, then raises an eyebrow at him.  “You have no idea why I’m here, do you,” he says, sounding somewhat mystified.  “Are you truly that innocent?”

“No-  _ yes, _ I know why you’re here,” Aymeric says, finally finding his voice.  “I’m no blushing maiden!”

“No?  You look like one.”  Zephirin smirks faintly and takes a step closer, but he goes no further, waiting to see what Aymeric will do.  When Aymeric remains rooted to the spot, he takes another step.

Aymeric glares at him, but it’s a half-hearted expression at best.  “Must you always nettle me?”

Zephirin’s smirk widens.  “I like the face you make when I do.”  He takes another step, now just inches away, and lifts a hand to lightly brush his fingertips against Aymeric’s jaw.  His expression turns serious, then.  “If you want me to leave…”

“I… don’t,” Aymeric finally says, knowing that if he does, he’ll never again have a chance like this one.

The response he gets isn’t verbal, but it’s a clear acknowledgement of his consent.  Zephirin moves the hand at his jaw up to tangle his fingers in Aymeric’s hair, then leans up to kiss him.  The first is light and hesitant, as though neither of them can quite believe what’s happening, as is the second- but with the third, Zephirin growls softly and kisses him harder, his lips hot and demanding against Aymeric’s.  Aymeric is still too stunned to do much in response, but instinct kicks in after a few heartbeats and he returns the kiss, giving as good as he’s getting and making Zephirin lean against him ever so slightly, panting as the kiss breaks.

Green eyes meet blue once more, looking at him from beneath a veil of long lashes.  “For someone so inexperienced, you seem to have  _ some _ knowledge of what you’re doing,” he murmurs.

“You’re the one who chooses to believe that,” Aymeric replies, his voice low and slightly husky.  “You should endeavor to pay less heed to rumors and more to what’s in front of you.”  He threads his own fingers through Zephirin’s hair in return and tugs his head back, leans down and slowly trails his lips up along his jaw to his ear.  Zephirin tenses in surprise, a quick intake of breath betraying him as Aymeric nips at his earlobe and then nibbles along the lower edge.

Zephirin’s free hand settles at his waist as he tips his head back further, and the fingers in his hair tighten their grip.  It’s only a few seconds more that the other man allows him to tease, abruptly letting go and ducking away.  “Then show me what you’re made of,” he challenges.  “I am not  _ fragile. _ ”

Aymeric raises an eyebrow at him.  “Nay,” he agrees, wondering if Zephirin considers such pleasures as something paid only to someone who can’t handle the rougher side of things… and wondering how he came to believe it.  He decides to act before things can become awkward, pushing him against the wall and kissing him fiercely.  Zephirin struggles against him, but it’s a struggle borne of desire as opposed to the need to escape, and Aymeric is keenly aware of the difference.  He swiftly grabs the smaller man’s wrists and pins them above his head, using his height to his advantage, and leans down to suck at the skin beneath his ear.  He smirks a bit as Zephirin’s breath catches again.

After just a moment of this, Zephirin growls low in his throat and expertly twists out of Aymeric’s grasp, and the two stumble toward the bed as they strip out of their clothing.  Aymeric hadn’t really expected this to be anything other than hasty and the bare minimum, which suits him well enough- he isn’t quite prepared to allow Zephirin any closer than he already has, and he doesn’t often take a lover because of the emotional connection that is lacking.  Still, he sees no reason to pass up the opportunity, mostly because he’s very curious… and he doesn’t think Zephirin will use this against him in the future.

Satisfied with their state of undress, Zephirin pushes him down to the bed and straddles him, pinning his wrists over his head and kissing him hard.  Aymeric responds in turn, at least as long as Zephirin will allow him to, and when the blond releases his hands and sits back he looks at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Well?” Zephirin asks.  “You have oil, do you not?”

Aymeric blinks.  “In the drawer of the bedside table,” he finally says, somewhat mystified.

Zephirin nods.  “Good,” he murmurs- and instead of reaching for it, he leans down to kiss Aymeric’s neck before biting at the juncture of neck and shoulder.

Aymeric closes his eyes and lets Zephirin explore him, callused hands oddly gentle as they trail over chest and down his stomach.  His breath hitches as deft fingers brush against his growing erection, and he feels his face heat.  The last thing he needs or wants is Zephirin finding yet another reason to mock him.

As it happens, the blond merely noses at his jaw before brushing a kiss against the corner of his mouth and makes a quiet, approving hum.  Aymeric bites his lip as Zephirin urges him to full arousal, trembling slightly and feeling his heart beating faster by the second.  It’s not long before Zephirin draws back and looks him over, green eyes flicking up and down the length of his body before looking back at him.  “I’m impressed,” he says, for once not smirking or being acidic- he looks wistful, almost  _ awed _ , in a way.

When he makes to return the favor, Zephirin allows him to do so briefly before moving out of the way, now reaching for the oil in the bedside table.  Aymeric exhales and looks up at the ceiling, then at the other knight as he carefully coats three fingers with the oil and sets it aside for more use later.  He moves back and kneels between his legs, then leans forward to kiss him, balancing on one arm as he trails his fingertips gently up Aymeric’s inner thigh and then further back, touching him in a way Aymeric never thought he would.  Aymeric hisses at the initial penetration, as while Zephirin is being careful, it’s been a long time and it strings.

“Relax,” Zephirin says, his voice firm and commanding.  Aymeric does so, closing his eyes tight and biting his lip again.  “I won’t hurt you.  I’m not so careless as that.”  Zephirin leans down and kisses his chin, then the corner of his mouth, coaxing him to release his lip for a kiss.  Aymeric focuses on that, on how his tongue feels sliding against his own, and the sting eases up after a moment- and, true to his word, Zephirin is cautious.

Their coupling is exactly as he’d thought- quick and nearly businesslike- and Aymeric finds himself enjoying it a bit more than he’d thought he would.  This kind of encounter is not truly what he prefers, though  _ who _ he’s sharing his bed with helps a bit in the end.  Zephirin is as efficient in this as he is in everything else, making certain Aymeric has his pleasure fulfilled before seeking his own, and while it hadn’t been the  _ best _ sex of his life, Aymeric thinks that he can be satisfied with the end result for the time being.  He certainly has no reason to expect it will happen again.

He watches as Zephirin dresses after, choosing to stay lounging on his bed, and the blond casts him a glance.  “Perhaps this will do us both a service, in the end,” he says quietly.  “We can go back to the way things were before.”

Aymeric smiles a bit, still on his stomach with his arms beneath his pillow.  “Perhaps,” he agrees.  He’s not entirely sure why those words set a sort of melancholy in his chest, but he shrugs it off, figuring it’s an after-effect of having just slept with him.  It is  _ certainly _ not because he’s come to enjoy the man’s company, nor because he’s started looking forward to seeing him when the day is done.  Zephirin leaves without another word, just nodding slightly to him, and Aymeric sighs before rising to re-lock the door and clean himself.  He isn’t entirely sure how he should be feeling, and so for the moment, he decides to feel nothing of import at all.

He is, and isn’t, surprised when Zephirin comes to his office the following night.

He’s in the middle of reading a report when the door opens and closes, and he finishes reading the sentence he’d been on and sets it down, looking up and feeling his heart beat faster when he sees who is is.  All that day he’d been replaying their encounter in his mind, idly fantasizing about the possibility of it happening again, because he’s  _ certain _ it would only get better- and with Zephirin now standing in front of his desk, he wonders if he had thought so as well.

Zephirin wastes no time, each movement carefully planned and coordinated as he walks around the desk and hauls Aymeric up out of his chair.  His mouth is on the dark-haired man’s before he can say anything, and Aymeric reciprocates eagerly.  He hadn’t wanted to think about things going back to the way they were, not when this… this odd sort of friendship had slowly begun to sprout.  He’d firmly told himself not to develop feelings for the prickly knight, as the two historically have mixed as well as oil and water, but his heart had cheerfully ignored him and done so anyway.  Neither speak for a few moments- there’s really not a need for that- and Aymeric gives over, letting Zephirin have the lead once more.

“This is absolutely insane,” Zephirin finally breathes into his ear, one gauntleted hand firm at his waist while the other twines its fingers in his hair.  “Do you understand that?”

Aymeric nods slightly, still trying to remember how to breathe.  “It’s dangerous,” he finally manages, his voice low and breathy.  He feels Zephirin shiver at the sound of it, and a thrill shoots up his spine.

Zephirin tightens his grip on Aymeric’s hair and presses him further back until he’s trapped between him and the wall.  “It is  _ more _ than dangerous,” he growls.  “It is foolish, it is something Halone calls us to be above, and yet I cannot for the  _ life _ of me get you out of my head!”

“Nor can I get you from mine,” Aymeric finally admits, daring to allow Zephirin ever so slightly closer.  “You and I have never seen eye to eye, and perhaps that’s what this is, simply… simply another conflict for us to engage in.”

Zephirin stares at him, his expression nearly impossible to read.  “I would know why,” he says, his voice carefully controlled and yet holding a note of tension.  “As you say, we've ever been at odds… but I want the truth from you, Aymeric.  Spare me your silver tongue and your honeyed words, and say your feelings plain.”

Aymeric stays silent for a long moment, looking Zephirin right in the eye as he considers his words.  The other man is patient, for once, and Aymeric finally settles on what he hopes is the right thing to say.  “I never liked you much,” he says slowly,  “and you outright hated me.  Part of me, however, wished all along that perhaps things could be different- if not this, than something resembling more of a friendship.  I know not what  _ this _ is, but… I think I would very much like to find out.”

The other knight doesn’t say anything for long enough that Aymeric finds himself getting nervous.  Finally, he nods once.  “Very well,” he says.  “We will… find out what  _ this _ is.”

Several months pass in more or less the same way, the two meeting nightly or very nearly so.  The encounters are not always physical- sometimes they sit and talk, and sometimes they simply sit together and work on their own reports, one having brought them with him to the other’s office.  Aymeric finds himself letting Zephirin closer and closer- and, as still shocks him, he finds Zephirin allowing  _ him _ closer in turn.

One night during the Starlight celebration, Aymeric is waiting in his room and feeling nervous all over again.  The two rarely if ever meet in Zephirin’s chambers, the man seeming to prefer Aymeric’s instead, and so Aymeric has taken it upon himself to make things a step closer toward  _ romantic. _  His feelings have become so intense that he’s shied from examining them, and sometimes he sees those green eyes watching him with a similar look of confusion- and that, more than anything, has given him the courage to take this chance.  He lights one more candle and blows out the match, watching as the smoke curls harmlessly into the air and vanishes, then sets it aside and waits.

Luckily, he doesn’t have to wait long- he’d have started fretting if he did.  He opens the door when Zephirin knocks on it and the knight nods slightly to him in greeting.  Aymeric steps aside to let him in and then locks the door behind him.  He looks around the room before turning back to Aymeric, one eyebrow slightly arched, and Aymeric just smiles a little before helping him out of his long coat.  Zephirin watches him as he unbuttons it and undoes the belt at his slim waist before slowly pushing it off of his arms, running his hands down them as he does so.

“You have something in mind,” Zephirin murmurs, letting the coat fall and ignoring it completely in favor of studying Aymeric’s face.

“Mayhap.”  Aymeric draws him close and leans down to kiss him, and Zephirin returns it, tipping his chin up and sighing faintly against him.  “If I did, would you object?” he asks as the kiss breaks, his lips brushing Zephirin’s as he speaks.

“That depends on what it is,” Zephirin says slowly, almost lazily, green eyes half closed as he looks up into Aymeric’s sapphire blue.  “Knowing you for someone who tends toward sentimental at times…”

Aymeric scoffs.  “I am not  _ sentimental, _ ” he says, but there’s no sharpness nor coldness to his tone.

“No?”  Zephirin smiles very faintly.  “Then why did I find a sesame roll on my desk this afternoon?”

“I was out on patrol and got hungry,” Aymeric replies with a shrug, though inwardly he’s smiling ear to ear.  He knows how much Zephirin likes them, and how rarely he bothers to do anything kind for himself.  “I couldn't eat more than one on my own.”

“I see.”  Zephirin smirks.  “‘tis a lucky thing I was around to eat it, then.”

Aymeric chuckles softly.  “And a shame I wasn’t able to stay… but, I’m glad you liked it.”

Zephirin draws back a bit to look around the room again, then spies the bottle of wine and glasses that Aymeric had set by the sofa.  He looks back up at him, that expression of confusion in his eyes once more- the one that makes Aymeric wonder what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling… if it’s the same as what he himself is.  “What is this?” he asks, a note of wariness in his voice.

“I thought…” Aymeric trails off, suddenly embarrassed.  “I wanted- I  _ want _ …”  He frowns, struggling to find the right words.

“Well, well,” Zephirin says, clearly amused.  “The Lord Commander is tongue-tied.  I do believe this is the first time I’ve ever seen you in such a state.”  He lifts a hand to cup Aymeric’s jaw, fingers splayed out to lightly touch his neck as well.  “Let your body speak for you.”

He exhales through his nose as Zephirin kisses him and returns the gesture, tightening his grip a little bit.  Zephirin has never allowed him much during their encounters, and he’s afraid of things going the same way tonight- most likely, the other man assumes it will be more of the same, as that’s worked well for them thus far.  Still, as Zephirin had told him to do so, Aymeric takes the risk of taking the lead, trailing his lips from his mouth and up along his cheekbone, then to his ear.  Zephirin tenses a little, but he doesn’t move away- and when Aymeric nips at his earlobe, just as the first night they’d spent together, his breath catches.

Aymeric moves slowly and deliberately, not wanting to frighten him off.  He brushes a kiss at the edge of his jaw and then lower, teasing the soft skin right below.  A couple of kisses lower finds the knight’s pulse fluttering against his mouth, and Aymeric can’t resist the urge to lave it with his tongue, to suck lightly at the skin so he can feel Zephirin shudder as he tips his head back a bit more.

As he knew would happen at some point, Zephirin pulls back and looks at him, green eyes searching his own- and for what, Aymeric isn’t certain.  He licks his lips, then, the slightest flick with the tip of his tongue, and slowly closes the distance between them to touch their noses together.  Aymeric feels a jolt shoot through his whole body- Zephirin has never been affectionate like this before, not once.  Zephirin hesitates, waiting to see how Aymeric will react, and when he stays still he dares to come a bit closer, to gently nudge their noses together as his eyes drop halfway closed.

“You are closer than I’ve ever allowed anyone,” he says, his voice barely audible.  “This could destroy me.”

“I would  _ never, _ ” Aymeric whispers back, lifting one hand to gently cup the back of his head as he pulls him closer.

Zephirin nods slightly.  “I believe you.”  He slowly nudges their noses together again, clearly needing a moment to think.  He takes a breath and holds it for a second, drawing back slightly to meet Aymeric’s eyes again.  He doesn’t say anything, just nods once, and Aymeric catches him in another kiss before leading him to the couch and the wine.

Once the bottle is mostly gone, the two have decided absently that their clothes are in their way, but are mostly too busy kissing one another to truly do much about it.  Aymeric feels dizzy in the most wonderful way, and he takes his time in unbuttoning Zephirin’s shirt, running his hands slowly over his torso once the fabric is pushed aside.  Zephirin allows it, leaning further back and resting his head on the arm of the couch as Aymeric braces himself over him, once again nibbling at one of his ears and exploring with his free hand.  Zephirin hasn’t ever truly let him touch him, not like this, and Aymeric isn’t about to squander the opportunity now that it’s presented itself.

Time seems to fall into a warm haze for the both of them as Aymeric coaxes him to open up further, to relax and let his guard down.  Zephirin is quiet, sometimes a bit tense, but he allows Aymeric to soothe him as he touches him in turn, now truly taking the time to learn about him.  Their past encounters had more or less all been fast and businesslike, and the fact that this is far different hasn’t been lost on either of them.  Aymeric revels in his touch, in the way he suddenly seems curious about him, and he sighs happily into a deep kiss.  This is exactly what he’d been hoping for, and his world has narrowed down to those hands, always gentle as they’ve touched him but now even more so, light and reverent on his skin.

Zephirin maps his way across Aymeric’s chest and stomach, then gently pushes him back and sits up.  He rises and holds his hands out, and when Aymeric takes them, he tugs him toward the bed.  Aymeric is all too glad to follow his lead, watching him lay back on the mattress and admiring him for a moment, shirt open and pushed down off his shoulders, trousers mostly unlaced and clinging to his hips… and not providing him much in the way of modesty, not anymore.  Nor, Aymeric realizes, are his own, and he colors just a touch.  He forgets to be self-conscious when Zephirin reaches for him, draws him down and kisses him, and he puts all of his attention and focus towards memorizing him completely.

Aymeric moves almost agonizingly slowly, his world narrowed down to the way the other knight reacts to him- every shiver, every catch of breath, every near-silent sound.  He pleases him with his hands and mouth, paying close attention to what he likes best and returning to those spots over and over as his hand slowly trails over his flat stomach and to the waistband of his trousers.  Zephirin is breathing faster now, and he shifts restlessly and pushes his hips up ever so slightly in a wordless plea.  Aymeric is all too happy to give him what he’s asking for, and it isn’t long until they’re both completely undressed.  Zephirin sits up and straddles his thighs, hands on his shoulders as he kisses his jaw and then his neck, and Aymeric shivers at the way it feels as he wraps his arms around him.  He’s tempted to lay back and pull Zephirin on top of him, but he resists the urge, thinking that this might be better after all.

Luckily he’d thought to set the oil out earlier, and it’s just within his reach if he leans back a bit.  He makes a quiet sound as Zephirin bites his neck, then soothes the mark he’d left with his tongue.  “Zephirin-”

“I know,” Zephirin murmurs.  “You don’t have to remind me.”  He moves lower, pressing a warm kiss to his shoulder- and then following up by sucking hard at the skin beneath his lips, making Aymeric gasp a bit in surprise.

“That’s  _ not _ what I was going to say,” Aymeric manages.

Zephirin draws back just enough to smirk at him, clearly pleased with himself at the way he’d gotten Aymeric to react to him.  “No? … then what is it?”

Aymeric growls at him and catches his lower lip with his teeth, biting down just enough to make Zephirin tighten his grip on his shoulder, the other hand now resting at his waist.  He decides it’s better to show him anyhow, as he’s not certain he can put what he wants into words even still, and he lets one of his own hands drift down to brush against his erection.  Zephirin makes a low sound and shifts, tipping his head back and causing Aymeric to release his lip.

Slowly, carefully, Aymeric does what he’s been wanting to do since the very first night they were together.  He takes the other knight in hand and strokes him gently, slick fluid making the motion much easier, proving to him how aroused he is and sending a surge of heat through him.  That Zephirin is enjoying this hadn’t been as obvious as he’d have liked, but the man has never been good at showing his true feelings- or perhaps simply never willing to do so.  Now, though, he still has his head tipped back, lips parted slightly and eyes closed, and that image is one that will be seared into Aymeric’s mind likely for the rest of his life.

While keeping up a slow, steady rhythm with one hand, he manages to uncork the oil and slick his fingers with the other before setting it aside.  He spares a distant thought to be somewhat smug that he hadn’t spilled it later; for now, he wants to give Zephirin as much as the blond will let him.  Regretfully, he nudges him back off of his legs, and Zephirin makes a sound close enough to a whimper at being released that Aymeric doesn’t quite believe his ears.  He gestures for him to lay back and he does, and for a few heartbeats Aymeric just stares at him, in complete awe of how  _ beautiful _ he is… and at the jolt of realization that floods his mind-  _ this has gone much, much further than either of us realized, even wanting to take another step tonight, and I don’t think I can tell my heart to forget him. _

Zephirin arches shamelessly, silently begging for Aymeric to continue where he’d left off, and Aymeric is all too glad to do so.  He leans over him and kisses him,then sits back and reaches down, takes him in hand once more, hot and alive and needing him with an intensity that nears desperation.  Aymeric draws a shuddering breath as he drags his other hand down further, gently rubbing his entrance with the pad of his index finger.  As he’d figured, that startles Zephirin badly enough that he pushes himself up onto his elbows and stares hard at him, hair tousled and falling in front of blazing green eyes.  Aymeric looks back calmly, though his heart is pounding hard in his chest and making it difficult to breathe… and slowly, Zephirin relaxes, lifting his hands to briefly hide his face before tangling one in his own hair, the other falling to the blankets.

Aymeric is as careful as he’s ever been with a lover, treating Zephirin like it’s his very first time.  The other knight is certainly reacting to him as though it is.  He continues to stroke him as he presses his finger inside, and Zephirin rolls his hips a little to help himself adjust faster, breathing slowly and evenly through his nose.  He knows it hurts, and he does his best to distract him, leaning down and brushing his tongue against the tip of him- which once again causes him to jolt in shock, tensing for a brief moment before relaxing again, a low moan rumbling in his chest.  Not for the first time, Aymeric has to wonder if Zephirin has ever really allowed someone to please him like this.

By the time he’s added his third finger, Zephirin is restless, hands raking through his hair and dropping to clutch at the blankets in varied intervals.  Aymeric leans over him and kisses him deeply, curling his fingers and making him jerk and moan into his mouth.  He knows the knight is close, perhaps painfully so, and he can’t help but smile.  “Let go,” he breathes, his lips next to Zephirin’s ear as the smaller man arches helplessly beneath him.  His face is flushed, breath coming in short, harsh pants… and seeing him that way fills Aymeric’s heart near to bursting.  It’s a sort of vulnerability he’s never come close to allowing, nearly always taking Aymeric from behind so he can’t see him in his pleasure.

Zephirin turns his head to the side, eyes squeezed shut.  “I…” His voice breaks and he bites his lip hard, gripping the blankets beneath them as Aymeric curls his fingers again, causing him to jerk yet again and let out a wordless cry.

Aymeric kisses his jaw, then his neck, then nibbles at his earlobe.  This is nothing short of magical, he thinks, and he cares not at all for himself- in this moment, all that matters is coaxing Zephirin to loosen the iron grip he has on his self control, to watch the look of surprised pleasure cross his face as he tumbles over the edge.

Zephirin shifts beneath him, lips parted as he struggles with himself and his urge to hide, one hand lifting to cover his face.  “Ay-meric,” he manages, that hand lifting to clutch at Aymeric’s upper arm.  He breathes a curse and then cries out again as his control snaps, and Aymeric is struck completely breathless at the sight of him as he climaxes.  He throws his head back, face flushed and mouth open in a silent shout, arms wrapping around Aymeric and holding on tight as he shakes and pushes up against him, pressing against his hip and letting out a long, low moan.

It takes a moment for him to relax, but when he finally sinks bonelessly into the mattress, Aymeric withdraws and quickly cleans his hand and brushes the cloth against their skin before settling down next to him and kissing him lightly on the corner of his mouth.  Zephirin immediately rolls over and presses against him, his face against his collarbone.  “Don’t say anything,” he manages to say, his voice shaking slightly.  “Not now.”

Aymeric nods and keeps his silence, focusing now on soothing him in the aftermath.  It must be very hard for someone like Zephirin to be seen like this, vulnerable and open, and he’s not about to do anything to make him uncomfortable or worse.  The two lay still for a long while, and without a word, Zephirin finally rolls him onto his back and straddles his hips, looking down at him as they’re nose to nose.

“You,” he breathes, “are something else.  I cannot figure you out, no matter how hard I try.”  He reaches for the oil and slicks the palm of his hand, then reaches back to grasp Aymeric’s length and carefully rubs the oil on it, taking great care to do so- and lingering on the tip, making Aymeric gasp and push his hips up instinctively.  “You should hate me… should never have allowed me in that night- ah!-”  He gasps and grits his teeth as he presses downward, and Aymeric reaches up to still his hips, but lets go when Zephirin gives him a dark look.  “And yet here we are,” he continues, his voice breathy.  “I… have  _ never… _ !”  His breath is driven from him, but Aymeric doesn’t need him to continue- he knows what he means, and the thought makes him harder yet.

Aymeric is still and silent, struggling to keep himself calm.  Zephirin is braced with his hands on his shoulders, graceful form bent over as he pants.  He can feel the tension in him and gently settles his hands on his hips again.  “Zephirin…”

“Be silent,” Zephirin breathes, but when he lifts his head to look Aymeric in the eye, his expression is one of pleasure mixed with pain and holds no anger.  His green eyes have a hazy look to them, and when he shifts a little bit they widen at the new sensations.  Aymeric doesn’t move an inch, letting him have all the control, just looking him in the eye and focusing on his breathing, on his racing heartbeat.  Slowly, Zephirin lifts his hips and lowers them, eyes closing and head falling forward again as his breath escapes in a puff of air.  He repeats the motion once, twice, three times- and Aymeric carefully begins to move his hips to meet him, the slightest of movements at first… but when Zephirin makes a quiet sound of pleasure, he lets himself go just a little more.

When the two find a suitable rhythm, Aymeric tips his head back and closes his eyes, which invites Zephirin to lean down and kiss his neck.  The knight gasps at the change of angle and shudders, and Aymeric dares move a little faster in response.  One of his hands settles on Zephirin’s hip to help steady him, and the other falls to the mattress by his head… and after a moment, to his everlasting shock, Zephirin puts his own hand on top of it and laces their fingers together, leaning over him further.  He’s still able to hold himself up that way, and he makes another one of those quiet, broken sounds and shakes his head.  “I… aah…”

Aymeric takes control, carefully at first and then with more abandon as soft sounds spill from the knight’s lips.  Zephirin keeps his head bowed, but after a moment he looks down at him, and his eyes widen slightly again.  Aymeric meets his gaze, knowing he’s not far from falling apart himself- and when he does, Zephirin leans down and seals their mouths together, muffling Aymeric’s cry as his orgasm takes him and makes him see stars.

Slowly, Zephirin pushes himself up and looks down at him, making no move to draw away.  Aymeric realizes that he’s half hard again and reaches down to touch him, drunk on sensation and craving the taste of him- but Zephirin shakes his head and moves his free hand to bat Aymeric’s away.  “I do not need more,” he whispers.

“I would give it, and gladly,” Aymeric protests, but he stops when Zephirin shakes his head again.

“I know… and I would accept, save the fear that I…” He trails off, then shrugs slightly.  “Nay.  Let this be enough.”

The two part a few moments later, and Aymeric cleans them carefully, lingering on Zephirin’s body and smiling to see the boneless way he melts into the mattress.  He stretches out next to him and blinks when Zephirin immediately rolls over and presses against his side, tucking himself close and resting his head on his shoulder.  He’s never done this before, never wanted to stay longer than what was required to be polite- and certainly hasn’t ever put himself in a position to be held.  Aymeric pauses, then slowly wraps one arm around him, and when he relaxes further he drapes the other across his side as well.

The two are quiet for a long time, and Aymeric falls into somewhat of a lull, blissfully exhausted and listening to the crackling of the fire.  Zephirin shifting a little catches his attention, and the knight slowly brings his hand to rest on Aymeric’s chest.  “This defies all rationality,” he murmurs.  “That I would be here like this, with  _ you _ of all people…”

Aymeric raises an eyebrow.  “I’m not certain if I should be offended by that or not.”

“Hm.”  Zephirin snorts.  “That’s entirely up to you.  You can’t deny the truth of it.”

“I suppose not.”  Aymeric sighs and closes his eyes.  “Are you satisfied with how things are?”

Zephirin is quiet, slowly tracing patterns on Aymeric’s bare skin.  “That implies that there are....  _ things, _ with which to be satisfied.”  Aymeric tenses and he huffs a little.  “Let me finish.  We decided to find out what  _ this  _ is-” he lifts his hand and waves it before returning to tracing- “and I, personally, have not found out.  Tonight, however…” He pauses.  “Tonight, I’ve come closer.”

Aymeric smiles a little and nods, keeping his eyes closed.  “I see,” he replies.

“And… to answer your question- yes.”  Zephirin sighs and then yawns.  “I’m tired.”

“Get some rest,” Aymeric murmurs, already feeling himself dozing off.  “Nobody will find or bother you here.”

Zephirin doesn’t reply, and it isn’t long at all until Aymeric falls sound asleep.

When he wakes, Aymeric half expects Zephirin to already be gone- but the other knight hasn’t moved, is still pressed close and breathing slowly and evenly.  Aymeric casts a glance toward the window and sees the darkness beginning to lift, then smiles to himself.  If he’s late, people will just assume he was attending to his own training… but he’s not certain about Zephirin, and so he decides to wake him.  It’s hard not to do so in an intimate fashion, and he’s just about to shift away and gently shake him awake when he sighs in his sleep and moves a bit, pressing closer yet.  Aymeric freezes, then decides to let things take their course… and it’s not long at all before the two are twined together once more.  Zephirin tangles his hands in his own hair as Aymeric carefully presses into him, then moves his hands to tangle in Aymeric’s, and for one brief moment, the two think of nothing but each other.

Aymeric admires Zephirin in the golden sunlight, panting and flushed in the aftermath of their lovemaking, spread out on his bed like some sort of angel come to the surface.  “You are beautiful,” he whispers into the man’s ear, and Zephirin shifts slightly beneath him, his back arching just a touch.

“You speak to me as a lover would,” he murmurs, his voice low and throaty.

“And if I should want to continue?” Aymeric asks.

Zephirin looks up at him, silent for a few heartbeats.  “I’d call you a fool,” he finally says in response.  “... and, should you truly want to continue… I would continue to know what it feels like to have someone care for me as you do- foolish as it is.”

Aymeric leans down and touches their noses together.  “Then it would seem we are both fools,” he murmurs.

“Hm.”  Zephirin threads his fingers through the hair on the back of Aymeric’s head and smirks.  “If I am such, it is most certainly your fault.”

Aymeric can’t help but laugh at that, and Zephirin’s smirk softens into what might be an amused smile, were it anyone else.  On him, it only looks slightly less sarcastic, but Aymeric has learned to tell the truth of his expressions over the past few moons.  He gives the other knight one more kiss, then regretfully rises and stretches before readying himself for his day.  He has a great deal to do, as usual, and he sighs to himself when he realizes that he’d really much rather stay there with Zephirin… not that the other knight would likely ever feel quite that much the same, or if he did, he wouldn’t admit it.

“Meet me for lunch,” Aymeric suddenly says, startling himself as well as Zephirin, who pauses in putting on his gauntlets.

“If I’m able,” he finally says, turning to face him and finishing his task.  Zephirin looks angelic in his white and blue armor, as it perfectly sets off his golden hair and pale skin.  He walks to Aymeric and leans up, brushing a light kiss against the corner of his mouth.  “We’ll see.”  With that he’s gone, walking out of the room without a glance back- and yet Aymeric hears the words he hadn’t said loud and clear, and he smiles faintly.  Neither are in love, of course, and he doesn’t know if it will go quite that far… but he has a feeling that it could, under the right conditions.

That night, when Zephirin comes to his room, Aymeric can immediately tell something is different.  He steps back to let him in, and Zephirin closes the door behind him before fixing him with an even stare.  “I can’t stay,” he says coolly.  “His Eminence has tasked me with something that will take the majority of my time for the coming weeks.”

Aymeric tilts his head curiously.  “Of course,” he says, wondering what exactly this task is- and if it’s going to involve his Temple Knights at some point in time.  “Is it aught you can speak of?”

“No.”  Zephirin looks away, then looks back.  There’s a strange expression in his eyes, something distant and far-off that had never been there before- even before his illness and all of this had started.  “‘tis best you avoid the Vault for the time being.”

Those words make his blood run cold, and Aymeric frowns sharply.  “I often have business that takes me there-”

“Cancel it.”  Zephirin turns away.  “I can say nothing more.  Look out for yourself for once, Aymeric- do not let your duty get in the way of your good sense.”  He puts his hand on the doorknob and Aymeric takes a step forward, reaching out.

“Wait!” he says, and Zephirin stops, looking back slightly over his shoulder.  “Zephirin, what is going on?”

Zephirin gives him a sharp glare.  “Did you not hear me?  I cannot speak of it, and you should ask no further questions.”  He leaves quickly, then, and Aymeric stands motionlessly in the middle of the room, wondering what exactly is going on- and how to find out.

Aymeric doesn’t see Zephirin over the next few weeks at all, save for in passing.  It hurts at first, but he sternly tells himself that he is not some scorned lover to sit alone and sob over it, and so he puts himself into his own work.  Were it a problem with him, Zephirin would undoubtedly have told him, as the man never has been one to keep his negative opinions of people to himself… and with that, Aymeric can’t help but worry for him.  Zephirin hasn’t gone back to the way he’d been before all this began, but he also hasn’t made an effort to reach out at all, and he can’t help but wonder what it is the Archbishop has asked him to do.

The arrival of the Warrior of Light heralds an upswing in the war, and Aymeric is suddenly far too busy to think about it much anymore.  His days are filled with making certain the city’s defenses are as bolstered as they can be while the Horde batters the Steps of Faith, and he barely sleeps at night for all the reports and reorganizing of troops he has to do otherwise.  He finds himself running on nothing at all before long, and while he’s never been overly trusting of outsiders, he also finds himself relying fairly heavily on the Warrior’s unique skillset.  As things snowball, he finds that all he can do is hold on tight to keep himself afloat.

He doesn’t see Zephirin again until he’s detained by the Heaven’s Ward and locked in the dungeons far beneath the Vault.

Zephirin comes to him after a length of time that Aymeric can’t determine.  He’s hurting all over and despairing ever getting out, and when he hears the footsteps slowly cutting through the silence, he lifts his head and sets his jaw.  He will be  _ damned _ if any of them think they’ve broken him.  When he realizes who it is that’s approaching, however, his will falters a little and it takes him a breath to regain command of himself.  He watches carefully as Zephirin unlocks the cell door and then closes it firmly behind himself, a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach telling him that the other knight is not going to give him any sort of succor.

True enough, Zephirin says nothing at first.  He walks to where Aymeric is chained slowly and deliberately, and stops a few paces away to stare at him.  His expression is completely blank, but there’s a wild look in those green eyes that Aymeric has never seen before, and for a couple of heartbeats, he is actually frightened of the man he’d come to think of as his lover.  Before he can say anything, quick as lightning, pain blossoms across his jaw- and he realizes Zephirin has struck him.

“You- do you even know what you have  _ done? _ ”  Zephirin grits his teeth, unbridled rage flashing across his face, and the wildness in his eyes intensifies.  “You’ve allied yourself with outsiders, chosen them over your own countrymen!  You, the revered Lord Commander of the Temple Knights, the Archbishop’s own  _ blood! _ ”  Aymeric opens his mouth to retort and Zephirin roughly puts a gauntleted hand over his mouth.  “Stay silent,” he warns.  “For once, if you know what’s best for you, you will  _ stay silent! _ ”

Aymeric stares at him in numb shock, but he obeys.  There’s something underlying this mania, a current of darkness he’s never seen in the man before, not ever… and he knows, in that instant, that Zephirin will kill him if he doesn’t listen.  He knows it as an absolute certainty.

“You’ve caused more harm than you know,” Zephirin continues, his voice strained as he struggles to maintain his control.  “His Eminence wants you out of the way for the duration.  He believes you a heretic, believes that you will lead us to ruin, and have you  _ any reason _ why I shouldn’t agree?”

Remembering Zephirin’s threat, Aymeric stays silent.  That darkness has intensified so much that he barely recognizes him.  He’s known Zephirin to lose his temper, to snap and snarl, but  _ never _ to lose his control like this.

Slowly, Zephirin’s hand moves from his mouth to rest over his throat.  His fingers tighten ever so slightly, making Aymeric’s heart beat faster in alarm.  “You have betrayed us,” he breathes, “and you have betrayed  _ me. _ ”

Those words are a slap in the face, and Aymeric’s eyes widen.  “No!” he exclaims, without even thinking- and he pays for it.  He sees stars as pain explodes on the back of his head from where Zephirin bashes it against the stone wall behind him, and a cry of pain escapes him despite himself.  Zephirin grabs his hair with his other hand and grips it hard.

“Your every action proves otherwise!” he yells.  “I told you to stay away from all of this and you didn’t listen- indeed, you’ve sealed your own fate!”  He releases him then and steps back, and Aymeric struggles to focus on him.  The hand that had gripped his hair is smeared with blood.  “I should kill you here and now, but I have-” He stops and listens, and Aymeric forces himself to do the same and hears the sound of running footsteps.  “Hmph.  It looks like your friends have come to save you.”  He makes an annoyed sound, then starts to glow as aether swirls around him.  “If you are lucky, you will not die this day,” he says- and then he is gone, and for a few moments, Aymeric is alone.

Estinien’s is the first voice he hears, saying his name with a gentleness that he isn’t used to from the dragoon.  He slowly looks up and sees him looking worriedly at him from beneath his visor.  “Aymeric,” he says again.  “Good- you’re still with us.  Give me a moment to break these cursed chains and we’ll have you out of here.”

Aymeric nods slightly and stares at the ground, then lets Estinien help him up once the chains give way to his lance.  Haurchefant quickly brings his armor, and Lucia helps the lord arm him- and once he’s set to rights, he feels like he can do a good job of pretending to actually be so.

When they reach the airship landing, the Warrior of Light joins them just in time to see the Archbishop heading toward a convenient escape.  He grits his teeth and takes a couple steps forward on his own, gripping his left arm tight.  “Father,  _ please! _ ” he cries, not above begging in order to get him to stop.  He doesn’t really know what else he says, he’s so delirious with pain, but he vaguely sees Haurchefant shift his weight to his right- and then he and the Warrior are sprinting down the landing toward the Archbishop and his guards from the Heaven’s Ward.

It’s at that moment he realizes that he doesn’t see Zephirin.

A sound to his right causes him to look over and see a strange figure garbed in armor he doesn’t recognize holding what looks like a spear made of pure energy, and he hears Haurchefant shout a warning as it’s thrown.  He gasps and takes a step forward, but Estinien’s hand on his shoulder keeps him in place, and he doesn’t think he could make it in time anyway.  He hears the shriek of the aether and the sound of the shield beginning to give way, and he sucks in a breath… and then the shield breaks and Haurchefant is flying backwards, and everything around him falls into silence.

A cry of Haurchefant’s name is torn from his lips, and he turns to stare at the figure to his right… and another catches in his throat when he sees who it is.  “Zephirin,” he breathes, horrified and sick all at once.  “Zephirin-!”

Zephirin casts him a glance and then leaps into the air and disappears in a glow of aether, only to reappear in time to catch the airship as it disembarks.  The knight looks back at them and bows, and then they are all gone, and all he’s left with are questions- and a wound much like Haurchefant’s, visible only to himself.

He goes through the days numbly after that, letting the healers tend them as they require before immediately returning to work.  He buries himself in it, knowing that now is not the time to grieve- there  _ is _ no time.  He sees the Warrior of Light and Estinien and the others off to Azys Lla, wishing beyond anything that he could accompany them… but with his wounds as they are, he’d be a burden, and he can’t allow something like that to stand in their way.  Whatever the Archbishop is doing, whatever Zephirin has become involved in, they  _ must _ be stopped at all costs.

He just wishes it were easier to come to terms with that than it has been.

When the Warrior of Light returns on the back of Midgardsormr, he can’t even summon the energy to be stunned.  He just stands and watches, orders his knights to stand down, and waits to see what’s happened… but when the Warrior meets his eyes and gives him a slight shake of the head, he knows what’s happened.  The Archbishop- his  _ father _ , the man responsible for giving him life- is dead… and if he is dead, there’s no way the Heaven’s Ward has survived.

     There’s no way  _ Zephirin _ has survived.

That Estinien is gone as well is a blow he hadn’t expected, and his years of politics and navigating Ishgard’s complex caste system aren’t enough to stop the low utterance of his dear friend’s name.  He distantly realizes, as the cold inside of him grows, that he’s most likely in shock over it all… and as soon as he possibly can, he escapes back to the Congregation.  He uses the excuse to tell Lucia not to allow any disturbances, and he walks blindly to the windows behind his desk and stares out at a city that he doesn’t see.

_ Are you satisfied with the way things are? _

_ To answer your question… yes. _

Aymeric closes his eyes tight against the sting of tears and draws a slow, even breath. Things had spun out of his understanding and control so fast that he’d been able to do nothing about it, and while he knows that is what Zephirin had wanted, he wishes more than anything that he’d tried to intervene.

The sound of footsteps behind him catches his attention and he half turns, expecting to see Lucia.  He does  _ not _ expect to see the Warrior of Light, standing still and almost holding his breath.  Aymeric quickly brushes at his eyes and turns to face him.  “Is aught amiss?” he asks, not bothering with pleasantries at all, because he knows the Warrior has little patience for them as well.

“There’s something more I wished to tell you,” he says, his voice low and respectful.  He looks worried, but he isn’t one to pry.  “You should hear the whole story.”

Aymeric nods.  “Tell it,” he says simply.

When the Warrior leaves his office an hour or so later, Aymeric is thoroughly gutted.  He looks around his office, the need to scream and rage and cry and do everything he cannot do  _ here _ rising up to choke him, and so he flees.  He walks quickly out of the room, out of the Congregation, and blindly until he realizes he’s heading toward the Vault.  Part of him recoils and urges him to turn away, but he forces himself onward, because he knows the one place that will cause him the most pain is the only place he might be able to find answers.

Luckily there’s nobody around to see him, as it’s now late in the night, and he firmly closes and bolts the door behind him before sagging against it and putting his hand over his face.  He’d spent a great deal of time here, though Zephirin had always seemed to prefer Aymeric’s room to his own… and it still smells like him, like leather and chainmail and armor polish, like cedar and sunlight and fresh air.  He bends double and squeezes his eyes shut, stays there for a few breaths, and then straightens and walks forward into the dark room.  He lights a couple of candles so he can see and slowly sits down on the bed, bare fingertips ghosting across the soft blanket on the top of the pile.  Of all the things Zephirin hated, being cold seemed to be chief among them, and Aymeric had teased him a few times about the sheer number of blankets he had on his bed.

Something on the nightstand catches his attention and he frowns a little before reaching out for it.  It’s a neatly folded piece of parchment with his own name written on it, and Aymeric’s eyes widen as he turns it over in his hands before unfolding it.  Zephirin’s handwriting is as sharp and businesslike as the man himself, and he has to wipe away a fresh wave of tears before reading.

 

_ Aymeric, _

_ That you are reading this letter means I will not be returning to the Holy See.  I know not what has befallen me, but it is a fate I have gone to of my own accord.  His Eminence learned from the Ascians a manner of calling upon past heroes, as it was explained to me, and I and the rest of the Heaven’s Ward accepted his plan for us without question.  I have little of my own will left to me, and none when I am given an order, but you deserve this much from me.  His Eminence never intended for you to become involved; indeed, he knew you would struggle against it and attempt to stop him, as you have.  As I write this, you are captive in the Vault, and I must make you truly hate me so that you never question that your path is the right one.  It is the only one you have ever walked, and that independence and fire is what drew me to you, in the end.  I do not know if I am strong enough to do what I must.  I pray to Halone that I am, if She has not turned Her back on me and the rest of us, for we now worship a far different God.  We have no choice. _

_ One day, you will understand.  You are no fool.  Keep your eyes open and be alert to what falls around you.  Do not trust the Ascians, and most of all, should we somehow return, do not trust us. _

_ Zephirin _

 

Aymeric stares at the letter for what feels like hours before slowly lowering it and looking into the dimly-lit room.  He remembers the Warrior of Light’s words about what had befallen the Heaven’s Ward, how they had taken strange forms and fought alongside his father, who had somehow become an avatar of King Thordan.  He doesn’t understand how such things are possible, how these Primals even exist at all or how Thordan I became one, and it seems the questions are piling up faster than answers are found.  All of that spins off into nothing, and he puts his face in his hands.

“I should have seen it, I should have  _ known _ , and I failed you,” he says out loud, his voice small in the empty room-

and when the tears come back, he makes no effort to stop them.


End file.
